


Wild Things

by sfiddy



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, There's nothing complicated here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21725326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfiddy/pseuds/sfiddy
Summary: Marian runs into the fields and forests to burn off frustrations.  Guy follows.
Relationships: Guy of Gisborne/Marian of Knighton
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	Wild Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FelixRivers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelixRivers/gifts), [eucalyptusleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eucalyptusleaf/gifts).



> My hand... slipped.

...

Marian took off on foot. She’d taken no supplies, and wore only a soft gown and leather slippers for protection. There was no plan, no intention beyond the need to run the frustration from her limbs and let the hard rush of blood deafen her.

Guy did not overtake her, but instead followed the twisting trail of bent and splintered stalks that cut the field she’d run to. Near enough to be with her, but far enough that she could breathe. Sometimes wild things needed their space.

He passed into the shade from a stand of trees. The grasses were thinner here and, just ahead, Marian flung her arms into them, snapping the reeds and yanking them up to fling muddy root clods further into the forest.

Marian cried out wordlessly, frustration grinding her voice into something gravely and harsh as she smashed the grasses in an arc, sending sprays of dust and broken seed heads into the sunlight. Her pretty hair had been pinned and held in coils under silken nets, but that had fallen away and her curls tumbled every which way, ragged and fierce. She cursed the sheriff, the prince, Saladin, the heads of a dozen other kingdoms and the king himself.

Guy had done little to make the day better. Every needling insult and innuendo the sheriff delivered had hit home. It was a wonder she’d not sought escape or refuge sooner, but Guy could not let her lose herself behind the castle walls. Not along the hallways where anyone might be around a corner listening, and not in a large room, where even the tapestries had eyes, So he’d left the west door unbolted and told his men to let her by.

And he'd followed. 

Minutes passed and Marian’s voice was raw. Her gasps were hoarse and she pushed her hair from her face where it clung. When she caught her breath, Guy stepped from the side of the tree and leaned against it, hoping that seeing him would not enrage her again. It was curious she had not cursed him by name, but no doubt had simply been out of breath by the time she got to him.

She turned and spotted him. Guy braced himself.

“Why?" she cried. “Why would you still marry me? Still want me? I hate that place, I hate him, I hate all the people who come and I hate what they stand for! I hate everything you want and yet you persist!” 

A clump of dirt flew and, due either to exhaustion or lack of heart, it fell far short of its apparent target. 

“I persist because _you_ are what I want,” Guy stated. He pushed off from the tree and approached slowly. Spooking her would do no good, and her soft shoes would not protect her if she ran to the forest.

“We want different things. For one of us to succeed the other must fail and that is no way to live a life.”

Guy loosened his cloak. Away from the cold stones of Nottingham the day was warm and the sun was heavy on his black livery. 

“Is it so wrong to want more than one thing in life, Marian? I do not hate those things, I just don’t want them. I serve Prince John and the sheriff for position and rank." Cautiously, he drew closer." I needed those things to achieve the things I want most.” Guy raised his hand, wanting to stroke her hair away from her eyes, but he stayed his hand with a sigh. “I needed them to achieve you.”

Marian trembled. “You could have any woman" she whispered. "There’s a dozen younger than me who would make a good, obedient wife for you. Why in the name of God would you want _me_?”

Guy drew in a stunned breath and stepped closer. He was within an arm's length of her, holding her, but the distance felt like miles and fueled his own frustrations as he spoke.

“Why, Marian? You want to know why I want you over some overbred, paraded flesh? If I wanted a woman to do little more than breed and agree with me, do you think I would pursue you as I have? Do you think I would seek your counsel and hear your criticism as I do?” 

As Marian stared, Guy lowered his voice and wet his lips. “Do you think I would beg for you if I wanted a wife who closed her mouth and opened her legs?” When she failed to speak, Guy plowed ahead, his voice thickened by long-repressed emotions. “You engage me, Marian. You demand more than a husband who houses and dresses you! You push me, you challenge me, and you match me passion for passion.” 

“But--”

“No! Deny it if you want but you will find few men wanting wives who would confront them as you do. ” He sneered. “Not even Hood. He may love you but he doesn’t value what you are-- a woman of passion who will work for what she wants.”

Marian’s chest was heaving and she pushed her hair away from her face. “But you serve Vaisey! You serve that odious tyrant!”

Guy's nerves tingled, itching to move. “I made that choice to get what I wanted.”

“You could have chosen differently!” Marian shot back.

Those words had a familiar ring, and it twisted around like a snake in Guy’s gut. “Because everything’s a choice? Like Hood says?” He circled her, crunching around Marian’s ring of crushed grasses. She went stiff and glared in dignified silence, her cheeks pink with righteous fury. A nasty thought crossed his mind, and Guy plucked a straw and twirled it in his fingers. “Tell me, how often does Hood have to live with the consequences of his actions? Or do others bear that burden?” He paused at Marian’s clenched jaw. “How often do you bear them?”

“ _You_ serve the sheriff!” she snapped.

“Then give me a reason not to!” Guy rushed at Marian and she squared up silently, every inch his equal. “You say you want to improve the lot of the people. Marry me and we’ll build our estate on justice. Make that with me!”

The impact was so hard Guy thought he’d been struck. He half expected to taste blood but his face was full of hair and he was being pulled by his jerkin. Her mouth, sweet God _her mouth_ , was working on his, unyielding and hot.

“You do not,” she gasped between wet kisses, “speak of him!” Fingers wove into his hair, and Guy’s mouth fell open against hers. With a moan, he stripped his gloves off in a flash and wrapped his arms around her. He was starved-- for her touch, her affection, her anger. He’d take them all, licked from her lips and taken into his skin. 

“Marian,” he said, and his lips caught on hers. Off balance, they stumbled and gripped at each other, the only solid things left. Her slim arm snaked over his, sparking a tremor in him through the thick leather armor he wore, and fingers tucked by his neck, pulling him down by his collar. She was full of fire, unleashing an intimate violence on him and he wanted that rage poured over him like hot pitch. 

But violence had no place here-- not with Marian. Guy had lived far too much of his life by his sword and fists to want that with her. Her kisses were hard and full of harsh breaths, rasps and not sighs. He loosened her clawed fingers from his collar and laced them with his. Caught off guard, she stilled long enough for Guy to turn her onslaught, more fight than a kiss, into something softer.

Marian drew in a quick breath, a cool rush on Guy’s cheek, and her fingers tightened on his. Her other hand, yanking him by his jerkin, slowed, then stilled. It was barely an embrace, but it was real through the desperate storm still raging beneath the surface. 

Her lips remained rigid through one, two, three soft, coaxing kisses. Guy drew her bottom lip between his, lightly suckling, pressing, and sliding over to her top lip. On the fourth kiss, the storm in her shifted-- her lips moved with his.

Whether from anger or passion, she began to shake. “Guy,” she gasped, tightening her grip once again, pulling at him with uncoordinated impulse. “Guy, I--”

“Shhhh,” he said, then trailed his lips to her neck. Vein and sinew pulsed under his mouth and he licked at the cords and salt, smiling at her sharp breath and the press of her nails. Marian loosened minutely in his arms and exposed more of her neck to his mouth. He stroked her back, her arms, her neck, and as her limbs grew supple she bent with him. When he traced her collarbone, she hissed and gripped his head, drawing him back for a kiss.

A new storm-- the passion he knew was there demanded more than feathery touches and coaxing. A woman who fought and schemed and cared would never be satisfied with courtly manners and dry, prim lips. The winds rose, whistling through tree limbs and rattled dry leaves off their stems. A few caught in Marian’s hair and Guy drew back, ready to pluck them away.

She was dark eyed and wild, the shape of his every desire, ready to rush at him to take and take. This beauty of the fae was a force to be reckoned with, and Guy’s breath caught when Marian’s gaze drifted hungrily to his lips and his leather covered chest. 

At his seeming hesitation, Marian looked away quickly and started to step back, but Guy tightened his hold on her and pressed himself against her. Her gaze snapped back to him.

“Use me,” Guy purred. 

Marian looked at him, glassy eyed. “What?”

“Tell my stewarts your plans, we’ll make announcements soon enough but for now, use me.” He pressed his thigh between her legs and noted the catch in her breath with satisfaction. “Use _my body_. Take me as your sacrament.”

Marian plucked at his leather mindlessly as a flush rose up her neck, settling across her cheeks. “You speak blasphemy,” she accused in a whisper.

“Then burn me for a heretic.”

They dove at each other, trampling the last remaining grasses in the small clearing. Clasps and laces loosened and cloth shifted as the wild overcame civility and temperance. Guy’s back scraped against bark and Marian, seeking handholds, tore fresh clods bristling with stalks from the earth. She was breathtaking, as powerful in passion as she was in fury. 

In broken light under nearby trees, dappled light blurred the lines they had drawn until there was no telling where one began and the other ended. She rose to meet his kisses, grasping at his shoulders to dig her fingers into him, twisting her legs to tangle with his. The whistle and hum of wind mixed with fractured cries and passionate moans, half gasped words and swallowed sighs. Limbs shuddered and clenched as the storm claimed them like prizes. 

Protected from above by half-leafed limbs and cooled by the soft ground below, Guy’s cloak sealed out the rapidly approaching night and he tucked the edge around her to keep out the creeping chill. She curled against him, still radiating heat.

“I still don’t understand you, Guy,” she murmured against his chest. The vibration tickled and made him smile. “I will never be a pliant woman.”

Thin sunlight caught in the floating debris in the forest breeze. He brushed back her hair and picked away a few leaves and seeds. “I’ve grown a taste for wild things, Marian.”

“I’ll give you merry hell,” she sighed, brushing her fingertips against his chest, leaving twitches in her wake.

Guy gently lifted her chin and kissed her swollen lips, his heart pounding when she kissed him back. “I pray to God you do.”

...


End file.
